


neither near (nor far)

by WaifsandStrays



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Nicaise (Captive Prince) Lives, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 04:25:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaifsandStrays/pseuds/WaifsandStrays
Summary: When Berenger comes to him with the Regent's pet under his cloak, Ancel has no idea what to expect or what dangers it might bring them. But the prince of Vere has asked a favor of them and they dare not refuse...





	neither near (nor far)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silverdraeconis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverdraeconis/gifts).



> This is a gift for SilverBladeDraco for the Capri SS 2018! I'm sorry, it's a little late (the holidays were a mess) but I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed your art over my time in fandom!

When Berenger comes to him in the middle of the night with the Regent’s child whore bundled in his cloak, Ancel thinks he might leave him. 

“I won’t fuck him,” he says, gorge rising. He fumbles behind himself for something solid to hold on to. He finds nothing. “I won’t fuck a child.”

Berenger looks appalled. “Ancel, _no_ -"

“Then why have you brought him here?” Ancel sounds hysterical to his own ears, waspish and shrill. “ _If the Regent finds out_.”

“He won’t care,” Nicaise says, sounding hollow. “He wants to kill me.”

Ancel stumbles. “What?”

“The Regent has declared Nicaise a traitor,” Berenger says grimly. He tries to put a hand on Nicaise’s shoulder but the boy shrugs him off. “He… He will be executed at sunrise.”

“Yet the boy is here. Not in a cell.” Ancel’s eyes widen. “ _No_.”

“Yes, my dove,” Berenger says softly. “The Prince has asked this of us and we- I must not refuse.” His hands, clenched around a fold of the cloak, tighten further and Ancel can suddenly see the toll this is taking on his master. Berenger is a simple man, honest and forthright. He is not built for subterfuge and games of lies. Not like Ancel.

“We can’t keep him at Court.” Ancel’s lips feel numb, his head light. He wonders if he is about to faint. “We must not leave tonight when they discover the boy missing. We must-”

“Moncort will take the boy,” Berenger says. He reaches out, touches Ancel’s cheek with gentle fingers. “They ride for the country estate tonight. We will announce our departure from Arles in the coming week, a necessary evil so close to the harvest, and he shall join us when the time is right.”

Berenger cups Ancel’s cheeks, presses their foreheads together. “You must play your part, my dove. Act sullen, curse my name to any who will listen, entertain attentions. Make them believe you are tiring of me, my Ancel.” Berenger lets out a small laugh. “Perhaps it is even true.”

Ancel wants to tell him it’s not true at all, wants to hold him, perhaps kiss him. But the child in the room stops him. Nicaise has been silent while they discuss his fate, staring listlessly at the floor. He isn’t even trying to pay attention. Ancel wonders what, if anything, they are saving him for. The boy seems broken beyond repair.

Ancel kneels in front of him, studies his face. “Nicaise.” He doesn’t bother to soften his voice. The boy is a pet, he should be used to harsh tones. “Do you understand what we are risking to help you?” Berenger makes a distressed noise but Ancel waves him silent. “I will not have you waste this effort.”

“I don’t want to die,” Nicaise says finally. His little fists are clenched and Ancel thinks, maybe, there is something there to save after all.

***

Arles is in an uproar. The Regent’s pet has disappeared in the night and no one knows how or where or why. Ancel keeps his nose to the ground but no one seems to have any ideas beyond that Prince Laurent somehow spirited the boy away to the border with him.

“I’ve always suspected His Highness of an… interest in young Nicaise,” one old man sniffs to his simpering pet. His fellows nod and titter like such a thing is a great joke, accusing the king to be of such an act.

It is all Ancel can do not to vomit.

Berenger leaves some days later, citing business concerns back home. He leaves Ancel at court to “enjoy himself further before subjecting him to the dullness of country life.” Ancel misses him. He hates himself for it, but he does.

Berenger writes him letters, simple things that Ancel reads curled up in his blankets in front of the fire. They are short, a few sentences at most, but they mean the world.

_My Ancel,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I am content aside from loneliness. I miss your face, my dove._

_Yours_

Ancel keeps them in a small jeweled box under his mattress where he can reread them when loneliness presses too close. He will rejoin his master in a week or two but the wait is agonizing. He wonders, fearfully, if this is what it means to be in love.

The date of Ancel's departure arrives both too quickly and not quickly enough. He can feel eyes on him as the stable attendant helps him onto Ruby's back. He imagines what they see - a simpering fool pouting about being taken away from court. He hopes that is what they see.

Moncort, Berenger's trusted steward, is waiting at the gates. He gives Ancel a cursory glance before nodding to himself. They set off without another word and Ancel feels himself relax with every step Ruby takes out of the palace's shadow.

“How fares Berenger?” Ancel can't help asking, has been burning to know since Moncort arrived. Honestly, he’s proud of himself for lasting this long without asking.

“The master is well, if a bit overworked at the moment. Our… _guest_ took quite a bit of settling in which the master oversaw personally. That and his duties to the Crown Prince have kept him very busy.” Moncort slides Ancel a reproachful look. “Do not expect he shall find extra time for your tantrums.”

Ah, so courtly gossip had done its job just as Ancel had intended it to. If Berenger's staff had gotten wind of his ‘annoyance’ about being sent for, then that meant no ear in the palace had not heard the tale as well. 

Ancel lifted his head and pressed Ruby to walk a little ahead of Moncort. He could deal with one stuck up old man thinking him a spoiled child, so long as he could see Berenger at the end of the journey.

_Oh, Ancel, you little fool,_ he thought to himself. _You should know better…_ He pressed a hand to his traitor heart and found it pounding at the mere thought of Berenger. _You terrible, terrible fool!_

***

Two days later, as the gates of Berenger's modest estate rise into view, Ancel finds himself once again the fool. Ruby, perhaps sensing his anxiety, fusses and pulls at her reins as she tries to outpace Moncort and their escort. Ancel tutts at her reluctantly and pulls her back into place.  
He can see a lone figure awaiting them at the base of the front stairs and it is all Ancel can do not to push Ruby into a gallop.

Once they are through the gates, Ancel clicks his tongue and lets Ruby run as fast as she pleases up the long drive to the estate house. She canters down the brick path, smooth easy strides that belie her impeccable breeding, until she glides to a stop before their master.

Berenger catches Ruby's bridle and pats her neck, staring up at Ancel with the whole world in his eyes. The hand not holding Ruby slides up to rest on Ancel's thigh. Ancel thinks he should speak but Berenger beats him to it.

“How was the trip?”

Something withers in the pit of Ancel's stomach. Weeks apart, weeks of love letters, and this is how he is greeted? Ancel discounts, brushing aside Berenger's offering hands.

“Long. I am going to bathe, I stink of horse.” 

Ancel turns on his heel and marched into the house, ignoring Ruby and Berenger and the clatter of more hooves as Moncort and the others arrive. He can almost hear the old man's veiledly acidic remarks. Let him talk. Let them all talk.

***

Ancel does not see his master again until he is lounging in the bath after supper. Berenger’s baths are nothing like the baths at Arles but sometimes Ancel thinks he prefers them. He prefers the solitude and the space to himself to think.

He's resting in the steaming water when the door to the chamber squeaks open. Ancel keeps his eyes closed, feigning sleep. There is only one person who would dare disturb him here and Ancel is in no hurry to speak to him.

“I have angered you,” Berenger says, his voice echoing off the stone walls. He sounds sad, resigned and tired. Ancel squashes a flicker of concern before it can take over and wash away his righteous annoyance. “How, I am not sure, but I know that I have.”

There is the sound of clothes hitting the floor and then… Water ripples, disturbed by another body slipping into the bath. Ancel tips his head back, wishes he had left his hair down so that he might hide behind it. Berenger’s hands are on his shoulders and Ancel can feel the last of his resistance melting away.

“I missed you.” It comes out clumsy, like Ancel’s tongue is made of clay. He can feel his cheeks flushing and busies himself pouring soap over Berenger’s skin. “I missed you every day and I thought- I thought you might have missed me too. Your letters…” Ancel trails off, for once lost for words.

Berenger’s eyes are tender. “I did miss you, my dove. Every night and every day. I wrote you those letters _because_ I missed you.” He catches Ancel’s hands and squeezes them, holds them to his heart. “My darling, I-”

Ancel doesn’t let him finish. He surges forward, sloshing water all over the floor, to throw his arms around Berenger’s neck. He kisses him, desperate and as if he could swallow the words Berenger almost said. Ancel doesn’t think he can bear to hear them, not yet, not until they are safe.

Ancel slips his leg over Berenger’s, straddling his hips. He can feel his master stirring against his thigh and this… this Ancel knows how to do. This he can handle. He puts his mouth next to Berenger’s ear and says, “Show me how you have missed me?”

He can feel Berenger shiver under his hands and knows he’s won.

***

Ancel does not see Nicaise until nearly a week after his arrival. The boy, according to Berenger, has holed himself up in his rooms and only comes out very early and very late for food. It would be an imposition on the cooks if they didn’t all love to cluck over the poor dear. Ancel thinks that the boy rather likes all the motherly attention.

He catches sight of Nicaise one chilly morning as the boy is exiting the library with a stack of books in his arms. He flinches at the sight of Ancel and the whole pile slides to the floor. Ancel stops to help pick them up and pretends not to notice Nicaise staring at him.

Finally, the feeling of eyes on him goes beyond even what Ancel can stand and he snaps, “ _What_?” Nicaise doesn’t speak but his blue eyes dart from Ancel’s face to something below his collarbone.

Ah. A bruise from Berenger’s mouth and left the night before. Ancel wonders if the child is more disturbed by the evidence of sex or by the age of those involved. It sits sour in his stomach as he once again remembers how young Nicaise is. He covers the mark with a fold of his shawl and straightens the books in Nicaise’s thin arms.

Ancel almost lets the boy slip past him before he speaks. “In this house…” He trails off, unsure what gives him the authority to speak but knowing that Berenger will see his will done. “In this house, you need not fear for your safety, Nicaise. No one will harm you. If you wish to go outside, there are gardens and orchards. If you wish company, I am here. Whatever you desire, you may ask.”

The boy’s voice, when it comes, is sharp as glass. “What I _desire_ is to go home, to feel safe in my own bed again. You can’t give me that.” He laughs, dry and cracked as a raven’s caw. “No one can give me that.”

“You’re right,” Ancel says around the unexpected lump in his throat. “I can’t give you that. But what I can give you is someone just as angry as you are to yell at. Someone who will listen. Think on it, Nicaise. Poison in our hearts only hurts us in the end.”

***

When Nicaise comes down to dinner that night, ignoring them all but Ancel whom he gives a curt nod, Ancel can’t help but count it as a victory. He feels Berenger take his hand under the table and allows himself, for perhaps the first time, to feel as though he’s done some good. Nicaise will not be fixed overnight, and if Prince Laurent loses, then it is all for naught anyway, but Ancel will not give up. If he can find his own happy ending, so too will Nicaise.

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I love my Ancel and honestly, it would not take much to convince me to continue the adventures of Ancel and Nicaise as they learn how to be people again. This was a 30k idea condensed into 2k and I loved every second of it.


End file.
